The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of
by RileyAngel
Summary: An accidental blow to the head transports Rachel into the future...or does it?


**The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of**. An accidental blow to the head transports Rachel into the future...or _does_ it?

It's not the first time…and probably not the last time…that somebody will tell a tale about an accident that provides the recipient an unexpected glimpse into their future…or waking up in an alternate reality (quite frankly, that seems to be an ongoing theme on the Lifetime channel, especially around the holidays). In any case, this is my take on that particular "plot bunny". To be clear, Ryan Murphy owns the characters, while the narrative is all mine. Enjoy!

P.S. In this alternate reality, Rachel never dropped out of school (bad girl! ;-)) and never performed in "Funny Girl" at the tender age of 19 only to bail one month into the run, but actually graduated and went through more normal circumstances in order to achieve success in the Theater, her first love and true calling.

* * *

On a cold Monday evening in February, Rachel Berry hurried home from the subway station, bracing herself against the chilly air. Despite the warmth of her down coat and other seasonal accoutrements, she shivered as she hurried home, looking forward to unwinding over a hot cup of tea.

Rachel was currently starring in the latest revival of "Annie Get Your Gun" and they were in process of breaking in the new "Frank Butler", who was taking over the role in another week. She had been in the production for close to a year and had won a Drama Desk Award for her efforts, an honor of which she was immensely proud.

Rachel had been living in New York since shortly after graduating from high school, close to seven years ago. Small world that it is, she was eventually joined by a number of her former classmates, who had also decided to leave Ohio behind them to try their luck in "the Big Apple". First came Kurt Hummel, her college roommate and best friend, followed the next year by Blaine Anderson, his partner and, most recently, husband.

Mike Chang had been hired by the American Ballet Theatre as their assistant choreographer, and shortly thereafter, his long-term girlfriend, Tina Cohen-Chang joined him. Santana Lopez had channeled her "take no prisoners" attitude into law school, eventually obtaining a position with one of the most prestigious firms in the city. Artie Abrams was rapidly becoming a sought after "indie" film director, splitting his time between New York and LA. And, last but certainly not least, Noah Puckerman had made the move after his discharge from the Air Force; working on his BA in Business while learning the ropes at a contracting company known for their meticulous historic restorations.

Every couple of weeks, Rachel's friends all gathered together to socialize, and tonight it was her turn to host. Seeing as many of them worked in the theater, their parties were scheduled on Monday nights. The rule was, the host provided the dinner, and the guests supplied either side dishes, desserts, or beverages. Rachel had made a huge pot of hearty vegetable soup the day before, and there were fixings for sandwiches and a large salad.

Noah had volunteered to come early and help set up; they had grown closer since his permanent move to New York, and although their relationship was peppered with flirtation and double entendres, it had remained platonic. There were times she'd wished it was something more, but, for now, she was content maintaining the status quo. She quickened her pace in order to have some "alone time" before his arrival, which, although it was welcomed, she still longed for a moment to thaw out after her tiring day.

Running up the stairs to her apartment building, she had reached the landing when she skidded on a patch of ice and fell backward, bumping her head on one of the columns that supported the overhang. As everything around her grew dark, she felt as if she was floating upward, breathing a small sigh of relief before passing out cold.

* * *

Rachel's eyes fluttered open as she gradually adjusted to the light. She attempted to move her head to check out her surroundings and discovered the following: her forehead was covered with a cold cloth, her head felt like it had been hit with a mallet, and she had no idea where she was. She attempted to raise herself up using her forearms when she felt a shift of weight on the bed and a large, warm hand caress her cheek. A deep voice softly queried, "Rach…Baby…you OK?"

Rachel shifted her focus slightly, her eyes connecting with a pair of hazel eyes reflecting deep concern. "Noah?" she cried out, her voice escalating in panic. "What happened? Where am I? How did you get here? How did _I _get here?"

Noah removed the cloth from her forehead, dunking it in a bowl of ice water on the night stand, wringing it out, and replacing it before replying, "Baby, you had us all worried. You bumped your head and took a little spill outside. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," she quietly moaned, "and I ache all over." She attempted to pull herself up, but Noah stopped her, commenting, "Rest, now, Baby; everything's under control." He leaned over slightly, gently pushing a few stray hairs off her face. A small smile graced Rachel's lips at the intimacy of the gesture; suddenly recognizing how surreal everything seemed, she attempted to pull herself together and move forward with the evening's plans.

"Noah," she stated in a firm tone, "I need to get everything ready for our friends." She groaned, considering how much time may have passed, as her hand moved to her forehead, holding the cloth steady as she attempted to offer pressure to a tender spot. "Oh, my gosh, are they here already?" she inquired, a slightly panicked tone creeping into her voice as she struggled to sit up.

Noah looked at her quizzically, softly inquiring, "Who's supposed to come over, Rachel? We don't have any plans tonight." Rachel emphatically countered, "Of course we do. It's Monday night, and it's my turn to host. Kurt and Blaine, San, Artie…you know…"

Noah chuckled, reminding her (or so he thought), "We haven't done that in _years_, Rach; at least, we don't get together as frequently, any more." Rachel's immediate reaction was to bolt upright, causing her to whimper and settle back onto the bed with a gentle thud. He took her hand in his, looked adoringly into her eyes (_and what was up with that, anyway_, she wondered), and reminded her, "Rach, just lie still. You've had a little accident, and we need to be careful about the baby…"

Rachel's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets, and only the memory of her last failed attempt to become more vertical stopped her from repeating the effort. "Noah Puckerman, what the heck are you talking about? _What_ baby? _I'm not pregnant_!"

"Shhh! Rach, calm down," he replied, doing his best to soothe the obviously confused woman before him. "You need to be quiet; the kids are downstairs, and they're scared enough as it is." By now, Rachel's emotions were on overdrive as she choked out, "Kids? What kids? _Whose_ kids?"

"Why our kids, of course, Rach," he replied with a chuckle. "Noah Puckerman, stop this immediately!" Rachel insisted. "This joke has gone on long enough, and it is certainly _not_ funny. I _demand_ to know where I am and _insist_ upon being taken home at once!"

"Honey, we _are_ home," a confused Noah assured her. "We?" she incredulously retorted. "Since when do _we_ live together?" Noah looked at Rachel concernedly, as he was finally beginning to realize that there was a problem with her mental state. "Since we moved in together, about six months before we got married. Your lease was up, so you moved in with me..."

"_Married_?" she cried out. "We're _married_? When did _that_ happen?" Tears began cascading down Rachel's face as she continued, "I don't believe you…This can't be happening…I don't remember any of this…We can't have children, I've never been pregnant…"

Noah smiled tenderly as he reminded her, "Trust me, we are, you have been, and you are." He placed her shaking hand over her abdomen, covering it with his own larger one. Rather than the flat, taut abs for which she worked so hard, she felt a firm roundness. She propped herself up enough to look out and was surprised to find a burgeoning bump where there had been none only that morning.

Rachel looked up at Noah and was momentarily taken aback by his expression, an odd combination of love, concern, and amusement. "Rachel," he cautiously inquired, "what's the last thing you remember?"

Rachel took a deep breath before answering, "I was rushing home from an extra rehearsal. We were breaking in a new lead…" He nodded, replying, "Yes, that's true. You're training your replacement for 'Wicked'…"

"'_Wicked'_!" Rachel cried out incredulously, "I haven't been in Wicked! We were working with the new 'Frank Butler' for 'Annie Get Your Gun'!" Finally understanding the extent of Rachel's dilemma, Noah's face paled before carefully reminding her, "Rachel, honey; that was eight years ago."

"Oh My G-d, Noah, what's wrong with me? That's the last clear memory I have!" she cried out. "I was in 'Wicked' and I can't remember it!" She brightened up a bit at the sound of that, prompting her to inquire, "So, was I any good? Did I play Elphaba?"

"Well…" Noah began, clearing his throat a bit, "You are extremely good, but you play _Glinda_." Noticing the pout that immediately formed on Rachel's face, he quickly added, "You were _Tony_ good, Rachel."

"I won a Tony?" Rachel asked, her demeanor perking up and tears immediately ceasing. "Yep," he confirmed, "Best Lead Actress in a Musical." Rachel's face formed a self-satisfied smile. "Do I have any others?" she asked coyly. "You do," he confirmed, "Best Featured Actress in a Musical for 'The Women'." She looked quizzically at him, prompting him to continue, "Harvey Fierstein adapted the play into a musical. You played 'Sylvia Fowler'…brought down the house in the first act. You don't remember any of this, do ya', Rach?" he queried. Rachel's face saddened, and she dejectedly shook her head, responding "No, not at all."

Rachel thought a moment, musing over what she had learned; she was immensely pleased that she had won not one, but _two_ Tonys…if only she could remember…"Noah," she piped up after a short while, "how long have we been married?"

"Six years last May," he reminded her, stroking her hair. "You should rest, Rach," he reminded her. "Noah, you said we have children," she stated, and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Um…how many children do we have? Is this our second?" she inquired, rubbing her slightly protruding abdomen.

"No, Baby, our fourth," he proudly admitted. Rachel swallowed hard, barely choking out "Four?" She sunk down deeper into the pillow, sighing again. "Um…I feel terrible, but I'm drawing a blank here. What did we name them, Noah?"

He grinned broadly, a twinkle in his eye that Rachel didn't see, as she was staring at the ceiling in utter disbelief. "Aretha, Elvis, and Cher…all 'musical icons'," he deadpanned. Rachel gasped, sputtering, "You have got to be _kidding_, Noah! I must have been high on pain meds to agree to those…_names_." Noah broke out in good natured laughter as he reassured her, "Just yankin' your chain, Rach. Annabelle's our eldest, and she's five-and-a-half, Ben is three-and-a-half, and Melody is 18 months." He smiled affectionately, stroking her belly as he admitted, "We found out last week that this one's another boy, and we decided on 'Jeremy'."

Rachel smiled dreamily. She had maintained a successful career in the theater and managed to have three…no, _four_ babies, as well. Not too shabby for the little girl from Lima, Ohio who got slushied on a daily basis and the consensus of her peers' opinions was that the only thing bigger than her ego was her mouth. Noah was watching her intently, pondering over whether or not to call the doctor when Rachel shyly requested, "Noah, could I see them…the children, I mean?"

"Sure, Rach," Noah confirmed. "Would ya' like me to bring them in?" Rachel thought a moment before replying, "Actually, Noah, I'd like to get up and move around a little, then we can go to them. Will you help me?" She reached out her hands, and he gently assisted her to come to sitting, guided her to the edge of the bed, and, once she had regained her bearings, helped bring her to standing.

Rachel was caught a bit off balance, both by her injury and the change in her center of gravity; after all, she didn't recall being pregnant (ever), and the slight difference affected her equilibrium. Noah wrapped his arm around her back to steady her; once she was stable on her feet, he guided her, his hand in the small of her back as he navigated through the unfamiliar dwelling.

Rachel looked around, taking in as much as she could as she unsteadily made her way toward the staircase. "Are you sure you're up to this, Baby? Wouldn't ya' rather rest?" he solicitously inquired. "No, I'm fine," a determined Rachel answered as they began walking downstairs, taking each step slowly, one at a time.

"We live here?" she whispered. "Yeah, we do," he confirmed, "close to five years now. "It was pretty neglected when we found it, but it was sure a 'diamond in the rough'. You even helped with some of the demolition." She looked at him incredulously (apparently, her expression of the hour), causing him to chuckle and comment, "For a little person, you wield a mean sledgehammer."

"I am not a 'little person', Noah" she huffed. "I am…" Before Rachel had a chance to continue, Noah picked up, "I know; five-foot-three, well within the norm, 'yadda, yadda, yadda'." Rachel rolled her eyes, trying not to show the amusement she felt that he actually remembered her height (as well as her oft-repeated defense of it). He further clarified, "I just meant that for such a…a petite woman, you pack quite a wallop."

Rachel smiled, the first genuine one since she had awakened into this surreal (and yet, not entirely unfamiliar nor unpleasant) life. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Noah took her by the hand, leading her toward the sound of a television from which the "Spongebob Squarepants" theme emanated. "I guess some things never change," she commented wryly as they entered the room.

"Mamma, Mamma, you're OK!" A little girl and a smaller boy jumped off the sofa and raced to Rachel, exuberantly hugging her about the legs and almost causing her to lose her balance yet again. Rachel looked down at what were apparently hers (and Noah's) children. The little girl had inherited her expressive brown eyes, resembling her father in every other way, while the boy was the spitting image of her Daddy (Hiram) at that age.

Noah led Rachel to an upholstered rocking chair that Rachel recognized from her apartment, appearing slightly more worn than she remembered. She gratefully sat down, and the little boy immediately approached her, stretching out his arms. She instinctively picked him up, letting him settle on her lap as she kissed him on the forehead. Tears welled up in her eyes as she quietly stated "My babies".

The little girl dashed over to a small table, retrieving a piece paper and scurrying back, offering the paper to Rachel: "I made a 'get well' card for you Mamma." Rachel retrieved the drawing, commenting, "This is the best get well card ever! Thank you…" as she hesitated, not recalling the name, Noah filled in, "Thank you Belle, this is a beautiful card. Mamma," he addressed Rachel, winking, "don't you think this would look awesome on the refrigerator?"

"It certainly would, No…aah…Daddy," she replied with a shy smile. "Where's our littlest?" she inquired, looking around the room. "Probably getting her diaper changed," he advised. "Beth?" he called out, "would you please bring Melly in here; Rach would like to see her?"

"Sure, Dad," a disembodied voice cheerily replied, and shortly thereafter, a slim teenage girl with a mane of curly, sandy brown locks entered holding the hand of a toddler who broke free the minute she saw Rachel. Like her brother, the baby raised her arms to be picked up, but as Rachel already had her hands full with her son, Noah picked up the energetic little girl and gently placed her in Rachel' arms, their son readjusting his position to make room for his smaller sister.

It's good to see you up and around, Rach," Beth commented. "We were all pretty freaked out when Dad carried you upstairs." Rachel smiled genuinely, acknowledging the girl's concern, "Thanks, Beth. Thank you for taking such good care of the children."

"Hey, they're my sisters and brother too," she teased, backpedaling the complement. "I've got homework, so I'll excuse myself. See you at dinner." Beth left the room, and Rachel caught Noah's eye, curiously raising her eyebrow as she glanced in Beth's direction.

"Shelby had to move back to Akron last summer to help take care of her mom; she's the principal of Carmel, now, and still coaches their glee club," he explained. "Beth's attending LaGuardia Arts for music, and she's applied to Juilliard…"

"Is she a singer?" Rachel inquired. "She sings, but she's a whiz on the piano," Noah explained, pride shining from his eyes. "Writes music, too. I guess between me and Quinn, and you and Shelby thrown in for good measure, it was almost a given that she'd be talented."

"You must be very proud of her, Noah. She seems like a lovely young woman," Rachel remarked. Noah nodded in agreement, adding, "We all are. You've played a big part in her life, Rachel…you sure you don't remember any of this?"

Rachel shook her head a little sadly before placing a kiss on the crown of her youngest daughter's head and nuzzling her silky dark curls with her cheek. "No, not a thing; I'm truly sorry, Noah, but I'm drawing a complete blank." He approached the chair and reassuringly rested his hand on her shoulder. "That's OK, Baby; when the time is right, it'll all come back to you."

Rachel nodded her head in understanding, pulling her arms a little closer around the two children currently residing on her lap. She stifled a yawn, prompting Noah to inquire, "Tired, Rach?"

"Yeah," she promptly replied. "I know you're not supposed to sleep with a possible concussion, but I'd like to rest for a while, if that's OK." Noah whipped out his cellphone, placing a call: "Hey, Beth, would you mind coming down to watch the kids? Rachel needs to rest…OK…see ya' in a minute." He grinned at Rachel, teasing, "Beats yelling upstairs like my Ma, doesn't it?"

The sound of rapid footsteps down the stairs announced Beth's impending presence. Noah extricated the baby from Rachel's arms, gently handing her over to Beth. "Come on, little man," he announced to his son, "Mamma needs to rest." He helped the little boy down, who promptly returned to the sofa, once again seemingly mesmerized by the TV.

For the second time, Noah helped Rachel stand and steady herself. Before they left to return upstairs, he said, "Mamma's gonna take a little nap right now; we'll see you at dinner. "Bye, Mamma!" the two older children called out in unison. "Bye," Rachel tenderly replied, her voice thick with unshed tears.

As they walked up the stairs, Noah's arm wrapped around Rachel's shoulders, she remarked, "They're beautiful, Noah. I always knew you'd be a great dad."

They entered the bedroom, where Rachel again was led to and reclined on the bed. Noah smiled lovingly, responding to her compliment, "Thanks, honey, but the credit goes to you. I know you can't remember, yet, but you're a wonderful mother. You take care of them when they're sick, you manage their play dates; you cook nutritious meals and bake awesome cookies, and somehow still find time to be the Broadway star you dreamed about when we were kids back in Lima." He kissed her on the forehead, reminding her as she drifted off, "Rest now, Baby. I'll be right here if you need me."

* * *

"Rachel…Rach…Come on, Baby, open your eyes…" "Diva…wake up, Diva…" "Come on, Berry, snap out of it!"

Rachel's eyelids fluttered open to find three pairs of concerned eyes staring intently at her: Noah was seated on her bed, holding her hand, and Kurt and Santana hovered overhead, Kurt on her right and Santana on the left. "Look, she's coming to…Di-va…Ray-chel…" she heard Kurt's voice, sounding far away and nearby all at once.

"Where…where am I?" she managed to sputter out as she attempted to sit upright, a hospital supplied cold pack slipping off her forehead in the process. "My head hurts," she moaned, falling back onto the firm pillow. Noah brushed the hair off her face, replacing the cold pack on her forehead as he gently reprimanded her, "Rachel, please lie back. You're in Emergency at Mount Sinai. You've hit your head and you passed out, but you're gonna be OK."

"That's right, Berry," Santana confirmed. "If Puck hadn't caught you, you'd be in much worse shape." Rachel looked curiously at Noah, quietly inquiring, "What happened, Noah?"

Noah described: "I was coming to help you set up for tonight, and I saw you slip on the landing. I was able to catch you before you hit the ground, but you banged your head before I could get to you."

"Thank you, Noah," Rachel softly acknowledged, squeezing his hand. "No thanks necessary, Rach," he humbly countered. Rachel looked at Noah as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time. "Noah, would you help me sit up, please?" she shyly requested. "I don't think that's a good idea, Rach," he tentatively countered.

"Just for a minute, Noah, that's all," she clarified. He nodded in acquiescence and assisted her to come to a seated position. She smiled at Noah, their eyes connecting, and she crooked her index figure, gesturing that he come closer. He looked at her inquisitively but did as she bade him. Using her right hand, Rachel cupped his left cheek, drawing him in for a kiss. She smiled contentedly as his arms enveloped her and sighed as he escalated the encounter, teasing entrance to her mouth with his tongue.

"Hummel, I think we'd better give those two a little privacy," Santana sardonically commented. "Let's get a cup of coffee." She linked her arm with Kurt's, and the two friends left in search of caffeine.

The kiss eventually ended (everybody needs to breathe sooner or later), and Rachel and Noah sat, foreheads touching and mutually enamored expressions on their faces. "What was all that about, Baby?" he quietly inquired. "Just something I've been thinking about lately, Noah," she answered. "Why; did you mind?"

"'Course not, Rach," he softly responded. "That's good," she confirmed, "because I'd like to do it again…that is, if it's OK with you." Noah grinned, replying, "Anything for you, Baby," before capturing her mouth with his one more time.

* * *

**Author's Note**: "The Women" is a play that was written by Clare Booth (Luce) in 1936. It is unique in that all of the characters are women, and the men are only mentioned but never seen. The main plot concerns a socialite, Mary Haines, whose husband is cheating on her with Crystal Allen, a shop girl who works at the perfume counter at a downtown department store. Sylvia Fowler is Mary's cousin, an absolute harridan who is the main pot-stirrer and is also dumped by her husband for a comely showgirl. It was made into a film in 1939 (now considered a classic) starring Norma Shearer as Mary, Joan Crawford as Crystal, and Rosalind Russell as Sylvia. It was remade as a mediocre musical in the 50's; also an (extremely poorly) remade/modernized version a few years ago with Meg Ryan in the title role (bad career move for all concerned). Stick with the 1939 version for true entertainment.


End file.
